Hero Born
by kataract52
Summary: Bella Donna explains to her youngest child the unorthodox story of her conception. Belle/Gambit, ROMY and Belle/Bishop pairings. I'll give you a DOLLAR if you can find another fanfic with this pairing!


**Disclaimer:** I do not own.

**Author's Notes:** This is a quick little one-shot about my OC, Hero. She's deaf and speaks in Sign, hence Belle is speaking to herself, more or less. I know Belle and Bish _sound_ like a crazy pairing, but once I started looking at them, they have a lot in common. Anyways, enjoy!

**Hero Born**

It's alright, _petite_, I knew you'd ask me one day. Your sister was much younger the first time she asked about her father, but I thought she was too innocent to fully understand the scope of her question. So I lied to her. I won't lie to you. He was a good man… That's what you really want to know, isn't it? He was quiet, like you. His life before the X-Men was very hard. He didn't have parents or big brothers and sisters like you do for protection. He was all alone.

Where's he from?... Australia, originally. Yes, that's where kangaroos come from. And koalas, too, clever girl. But he's also from the future. His life was miserable, so he traveled back in time to undo all the things that had gone wrong. Oh, I don't know the details, _chere_. He never did talk to me very much. I don't think he ever spoke to anyone about his past, exactly. He talked _around_ things, like you do. He'd never say there are no trees in his past, he'd say he didn't see a tree until he came here. He didn't say he admired the X-Men, he'd say they were legendary heroes in his world. Things like that.

Where's he now?... I don't rightly know. When you were still just a little baby, he got into some trouble and had to go back into time somewhere. I don't know if he's in the past or the future again. Yes, you got to see him, but you won't remember it. You were too little.

He was a big man, one of the biggest I've ever seen. His shoulders were too wide to hold. Really, all of his muscles were hard and bulky. He had dark skin with scars all over it. One in particular was shaped like an 'M' over his eye. Yes, I suppose that does sound a little scary… But he wasn't mean. No, he wasn't a monster… Can't think of anything particularly _nice_ about him right now, but if he were a mean person, you wouldn't be here. …I don't know that, either, _petite_. I didn't know him that long. No, we weren't married.

Then how did we make a baby?

I was afraid you'd ask…

Lucas wasn't my first choice. The man would obviously produce a large child, and I was unfamiliar with the workings of his mind. But he was intelligent and strong and not bad-looking. Good genes. After our collaboration on my home security, we came to respect and understand each other. I stopped short of ever calling him my friend because I don't think he has any friends. But we had some sort of… _connection_. We trusted each other as much as we could.

I dated men on the side, but I never met anyone worthy to introduce (or even mention) to my daughter. She was my heart but I wanted more. I hated the fact that she was my only child. I hated the loneliness and selfishness it placed in her. I could feel her slipping away from me every day, whether that day was her first step or potty training or exploring her sexuality. Like a marriage adrift, I thought a baby would bring her back. By Cajun standards, my biological clock was dust-coated and dead. But in New York, I felt no shame walking into a doctor's office and requesting a sperm donation. I was shocked when he told me I should easily conceive. I quickly did the math… If I conceived a child that very afternoon, I would give birth at thirty-three. I would be thirty-nine when it started school and fifty when it graduated. _Fifty!_ That seemed a lifetime away. But, when I was seventeen and pregnant for the first time, thirty seemed infinitively distance.

"Would you like an anonymous donor?" The doctor asked, "Or do you have a donor in mind?"

A lump formed in my throat.

Ridiculously, I wanted to ask Remy. Yes, Mr. LeBeau. I know how silly that sounds, but I wanted your sister to have a full-blooded sibling: unlike those scrawny runts Rogue produced. I suppose I wanted to know what to expect. I wanted a chance to relive my youth. But that was a dead dream. I knew better, and I needed to remember that. Peace in my home was more important than sentimental notions, even though he wanted more children, too. Children Rogue refused to give him. I could have let her own jealousy destroy her frail marriage. Who was _she_ to deny my child life? Why should her husband suffer for _her_ shortcomings? _He_ wouldn't say no. This could be the chance for us to correct all the mistakes we'd made with our first child. Most importantly, I knew I could love his child. I didn't love him anymore, but I loved Honor. I wasn't sure if I could love my child fathered by a man I had never loved. But as twisted and strange as our family was, I loved it. I loved Rogue and all her insecurities. I loved Ollie and Becca and their enthusiasm for life. I loved my sullen little girl. I loved my ex and the house he'd built for us. I couldn't destroy all that for my own desires.

Who could I ask, then?

A single man, to be sure. No jealous wives needed. Someone who _wanted_ to be a father, but would relinquish his paternal rights. Someone who was unlikely to produce children otherwise; and someone I could bare to be reminded of every day.

Bishop floated into my thoughts.

The initial conversation was a little awkward, to be sure. The man was no fan of small talk and no practitioner of tact. But after the clumsy disposal of my request, he froze and watched me. His stern, brown eyes bore into me without mercy. The look was just a mask – a diversionary tactic – I knew he was trying to shield his thoughts. Like anyone, he longed to leave behind a piece of himself. Unfortunately for him, it seemed unlikely that he would ever be in the position to _raise_ a child. His past was my future, and if it still existed, he longed to return there. More likely, those he'd loved and known were forever lost. What sort of future should he expect then? It seemed all the love he'd receive in his lifetime was dead.

He agreed so smoothly that I hardly noticed.

My first attempt to conceive was performed in the doctor's office. The table was cold and sterile under unforgiving lights. In the distance, I could hear a very soft, _muzac_ version of "Stairway to Heaven". I hated everything about the situation and swore to never conceive this way.

Last time I got knocked up, I'd been in the back seat of my father-in-law's car. It was freezing, but we didn't dare leave the heater running. I rushed Remy; fearing Henri would catch us again. In his haste, he'd incorrectly placed the condom and it shattered when we needed it most. I remember laying on the stiff leather seat, looking out the foggy window and thinking "what if?" _Enjoy the Silence_ by the Depeche Mode was playing, and as strange as it was, the song always reminded me of Honor.

I conducted the second attempt at home by myself. Since I would be a single parent, this method seemed _apropos_. Sadly, the sperm didn't take. It continued this way for months. Eighteen times I planted a seed, but my body bled every month. I was angry and frustrated. I blamed Honor for placing so much stress on me. I blamed Remy for being married and unavailable. I blamed Rogue for her existence. Even under the haze of fertility drugs, I was aware of my strain on the family. Perhaps for the good of the unit, I needed to bury this dream. After nine months and no word, Lucas finally asked me for a progress report. Foolishly, I invited him out for dinner. I knew it was wrong, but I was desperate for someone to talk to about this. I was tired of feeling so alone and used. We met at a casual café: an appropriate place for on-line daters and college students, not for two grown folks trying to make a baby. But the place was away from our usual haunts, and quiet enough to be ignored. I arrived first and ordered a _café au lait_. When he joined me, it was with a stony face and solid body.

"May I ask why we needed to meet here?" He asked. "Why wouldn't the mansion suffice?"

"Sorry," I replied. "I ain't exactly tellin' people my private business, and I want t' keep it dat way. T'ink dey gonna get suspicious if dey see us t'gether."

"I expected you would be with child by now. Is there some complication?"

A lump formed in my throat and my eyes watered. "I… I don't know what's wrong wit' me. De doctor says I shouldn't have any problems. But dere ain't no baby. I'm thinkin' 'bout callin' it quits. Sorry t've bothered you."

He ordered black coffee and tapped his finger on the table. I couldn't tell if he was thinking or just impatient. Finally, he said: "That is your decision. I am in no position to offer an opinion."

"But if I asked for one?"

"I would encourage you to keep trying."

I looked at him for a long time. For once, I had somewhere to direct my anger without guilt. I could feel the rage building. "That's _very_ encouragin', _merci_. You t'ink your presence is all I need? Dat you can just show up and listen? Dis ain't workin' for me."

"I thought LeBeau provided for your every need. I've never known him to be short of things to say."

"Maybe he should! _He's_ got no problems makin' babies!"

We stared hard at each other, the air between us tense and charged. It wasn't in our nature to walk away or surrender. By all accounts, we should've remained in that fight until one of us starved to death. But Lucas broke the silence first.

"If you still want my opinion, I don't think LeBeau is an appropriate choice, however resilient his spawn."

"_Oui_. He's married."

"He's bad for you."

This forced me to pause. For all his reserve for my ex, he'd held his opinion from me and Honor. This courtesy was one of the many things I respected about him. I didn't know all the history between Remy and Lucas, but I knew there's a long and complicated account. In Lucas's past (my future), he and LeBeau had a forced relationship: something Lucas very much resented. He never spoke to me about it, but I gather LeBeau betrayed him somehow. It's often made me wonder if the future is fixed or ever-changing. The fact that he was breaking his silence about LeBeau meant more than it seemed. I knew his motivation was, as always, to protect me and my family.

"How?" I asked gently.

"He makes you weak. I have great admiration for you, Bella. Despite your poor choices, you have always been strong. I see less of that strength when LeBeau is present."

I agreed with him, but couldn't admit it. It seemed like the last of my strength was in bluffing.

Lucas didn't care whether or not I agreed.

"I hate dat man," I said.

"I think you love him."

"Love him?" I sounded weak, even to myself. "Dat man's taken everyt'ing from me. My Papa never forgave me for lovin' him. My brother's _dead_ because of him. I wasted de best days of my youth pinin' for dat man an' raisin' his youngin'. Only t'ing he _ever_ gave me was a pile of broken promises."

"I know better than most what kind of man he is," said Lucas. "You've shared something of yourself with me. I would like to do the same… I agreed to this arrangement with the hopes that a child would cut you free from LeBeau. As a mother, you are a lion. It is a part of you I hope to see more of. But when LeBeau enters, you are a lamb. He does not deserve such power over you."

"I took vows wit' dat man," I replied. "I had his child. You t'ink he doesn't have power over me?"

"I want you to be the woman you are. Take back your life. I can help you. Isn't that why you asked me?"

Tears hot with shame streamed down my cheeks. I left them untouched. I knew it would be the last time I shed tears for that man. For once, I didn't try to hide or escape the pain. I would remember the pain forever, but never feel it again.

That night, I went home with Lucas. It was the most _honest_ sex I'd ever had. His body had more scars than I could've imagined: scars atop scars. He was so hardened that I began to wonder if he'd ever known a woman's touch. His hands returned my curiosity. Like living sandpaper over newborn skin, he wondered if I'd ever known affliction. There was no race for the finish line or whispered lies. There was no desperate yearning or passionate declarations. There was only acceptance and understanding. It was "only" what I'd been looking for. The incident was a one-night stand. In the morning, I felt an enormous relief from my shoulders and a new burden in my womb. I knew the feeling, but tried to restrain my hope. A new life was stirring inside me: a life Lucas had helped me create.

I know there's a lot you don't understand, _chere_. And I'm sorry if you're disappointed with me. I know I've always said you should only have a baby once you're married and in love. But I don't regret what I did. If I had to go through it all again for you, I would. You're very lucky to be here, and I'm very happy to have you.

Of course, _petite_, I know you're very sleepy. I didn't mean to go on so much.

I love you, too.


End file.
